


Three Sins

by janed



Category: Goonies (1985)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-11
Updated: 2003-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janed/pseuds/janed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been friends once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Sins

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal.
> 
> There are only three sins - causing pain, causing fear, and causing anguish. The rest is window dressing.  
> \-- Roger Caras

They had been friends once. Back when they were kids. When all that mattered was how fast you could ride your bike down that big hill on the corner of Johnson and Maple or how many baseball cards you had to trade. Before clothes and cars and hormones came along.

They had been friends until half way through Junior High when Troy had realized that Brand was the only person he hung out with that didn't play tennis at the country club every weekend. That Brand was the only one who wore Salvation Army clothes and ratty tennis shoes. When he'd realized what it meant when Brand brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch every day. When it had finally dawned on him that Brand was from the Goon Docks and all the poor kids lived on the Goon Docks.

They were friends until the day that Troy decided they wouldn't be anymore. The day when Brand sat down beside him in Mrs. Butler's English class and smiled his stupid smile and just pissed Troy off. It had pissed him off that someone with nothing could be happier than he was. Because he had everything and he should have had more reason to smile than Brand did. But he wasn't happier because his Dad was always away on business trips and his Mom was always too busy and he really hated tennis and he was short and... there were a thousand other reasons that he could never remember, but had been so very valid then. Brand had had something he didn't and that just hadn't set right in Troy's 13-year-old brain.

So he decided right there that his friend Brand would be forever known as Walsh and that Walsh wasn't good enough to sit with him at lunch. And that Walsh wouldn't be coming to his house after school anymore and that Walsh wouldn't be his best friend ever again and that was just the way it was. He'd decided, and he'd known he couldn't change his mind, even if seeing Walsh's pained expression made him want to take it all back, and seeing Walsh smile at anyone else made him want to beg for forgiveness. He had decided and he wasn't going to change his mind... even if he'd wanted to.

And in his struggle to put their friendship behind him he had made another decision. He had decided that since he wasn't going to be friends with Walsh that no one was. He made sure everyone knew that he was the richest kid in town and that Walsh was just a nobody from the Goon Docks. He made sure that everyone knew that Walsh was just a worthless Goonie. And when he realized that everybody still liked Walsh anyway he just upped the ante. He made fun of Walsh every chance he got. Made fun of his clothes and his Father's sorry job and the stupid haircuts that his Mother gave him. He goaded Walsh into fights and then used his Dad's influence to get himself out of trouble while Walsh was sent to detention.

But after a while it proved to be useless because Walsh was still everybody's favorite guy. He was still the nice guy with the easy smile. He was still smart and funny and too good looking for his own good. Walsh was everything that everybody wanted him to be and he didn't even have to try because that was just the way he was. Walsh was everything that Troy was supposed to be but could never quite manage to pull off. And Troy hated him more and more as time went by. He hated him because no matter what he did or said Walsh was still there the next day. Still there to shove perfection in his face.

But they had been friends once upon a time, so maybe that was why he hadn't said anything when Walsh showed up at his house for the after-graduation party. Maybe that would explain why he just opened up another beer and watched the other boy force smiles at people who had treated him like shit just a few hours before. Watched as he followed Andy around like a lost puppy while she giggled and mingled with all the other Hillside kids. Why he only shook his head in disbelief when Walsh just stared down at the beer that someone random partygoer shoved into his hand.

And maybe because they'd been friends once would explain why, when he watched Walsh break away from Andy and walk up the stairs to the second floor, Troy got up, smiled at his drunken guests as he pushed past them, and followed.

He remembers everything after that with an almost crystal clarity and he wonders if maybe it will fade in time, but he doesn't really think so. Because he figures that sometimes things happen in your life that are so totally unexpected that you can't help taking a kind of mental snapshot so that in twenty years you can look back and still be shocked.

He remembers walking up the stairs and standing in front of his bedroom door for way too long before he finally opened it and walked in. And he remembers that when he did, Walsh didn't even flinch. He just looked up from a shoebox full of baseball cards, old photographs, and faded little league schedules and stared at him like he was some kind of math problem that needed to be figured out before quietly asking him if they'd been friends once.

And he locked the door, walked across the room and sat down hard on the bed, just nodding a few times because what could he have said? 'Yeah, once we were friends. Once we were best friends. Which is why you still know which room is mine and how you knew exactly which floorboard to look under for that box you're holding and why you knew that I'd sit here with you even though we haven't said a civil word to each other since... yeah, once we were friends.'

He handed his half-empty beer to Walsh and watched out of the corner of his eye while the other boy downed it in a few quick gulps and sputtered like only someone who didn't drink could. And then he rifled around in the shoebox and pulled out a photo of the two of them from a million summers before and handed it to Walsh. And when Walsh looked him dead in the eye and smiled that same stupid smile that had started the whole Goonie thing in the first place he remembers he pressed his mouth against Walsh's and realized that it never should have been a bad thing that Walsh had been happier than he was because Walsh had been happier _with him_.

Walsh tensed, but then he grabbed Troy by his expensive shirt and kissed him back. Walsh kissed him back and he didn't deserve it. After all the hell he caused, it would have been more fitting for Walsh to pull away in disgust and use his extra twenty pounds and four inches to beat the shit out of Troy. It would have been like justice. But that wasn't the way Walsh worked and Troy couldn't say that he was exactly upset about it because Walsh kissed like kissing was the only thing in the world worth doing.

Walsh kissed hard and hot and wet and not at all that different from anyone else Troy had kissed before but at the same time completely different, because Walsh didn't reek of too much perfume and his lips weren't sticky with lip gloss and when Troy put his hand on the back of Walsh's neck he felt hot skin and not miles of stiff, over-teased hair.

When Walsh made a low noise in the back of his throat all he wanted was to find out what it would take to make Walsh make more noises like that. He pulled Walsh's shirt over his head and they both gasped deep and shaky from not getting enough oxygen and he remembers that he felt light-headed and much more drunk than he had any right to be and that Walsh's eyes were hazy with lust and determination when he unbuttoned Troy's shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.

He remembers the way his breath caught in his throat when Walsh pushed him back on the bed and pressed their naked chests together. And he remembers thinking that he was going to die. Or maybe that he already had. Because Walsh's skin was even hotter than his own and when he settled between Troy's legs and ground their hips together he was just as hard. And that had to be heaven, because there was no way that it could really happen in real life.

He remembers the weight of Walsh's body pushing him into the mattress. The slide and push and thrust of their hips colliding. The way Walsh moaned and licked at his mouth like he was the best tasting thing in the world. The softness of Walsh's back and how his hands just slid right down into the back of Walsh's jeans. The way Walsh gasped and wrenched his mouth away to moan against his neck when Troy hooked his leg around Walsh's hip and brought them that much closer together.

Breathing was erratic and gasping and almost impossible and he remembers feeling like he was going to die if he didn't come but being determined that he wasn't going to be the only one. That for once he was going to do something right. He'd never really cared about whether or not the other person he was with got off before but after all that he'd done -- all the ways he'd made Walsh's life a living hell -- he figured he owed it to him. He owed it to Walsh and if maybe he would get something out of it that he hadn't even realized he wanted more than anything there was no harm done.

He mumbled something like 'up', or 'off', or 'Brand' and pushed Walsh up onto his knees. He remembers fumbling with the fastenings on Walsh's jeans with his hands shaking so hard that he couldn't even feel his fingers. And he remembers laughing when Walsh sighed as the zip finally came down because he knew exactly what that felt like. And when Walsh looked down at him and grinned, he just grinned back because he couldn't help himself.

Just like he couldn't stop himself from groaning when Walsh's hands slid up his thighs and rubbed him through his jeans. And he remembers that Walsh's fingers didn't fumble and Walsh's hands didn't shake and Walsh didn't stop with just undoing his pants, but instead pulled both his jeans and his underwear off completely. And when Walsh tossed them down beside the bed and just stared at him, he'd never felt more awkward in his life. Because Walsh was breathing hard and staring at his naked body and it was embarrassingly obvious how turned on that made Troy.

It seemed unfair, though, because he wanted something more than Walsh's eyes on him. He wanted skin and sweat and everything else that came with being naked with another person. And even though he thought that maybe he should just let Walsh do whatever he wanted he'd never been that selfless. He'd never been selfless enough not to sit up and ease Walsh's jeans down past his hips. He'd never been selfless enough not to pull him down on top of him and groan when Walsh's stomach rubbed against his dick. He'd never been selfless period.

He remembers Walsh mumbling against his throat and feeling like his entire body was on fire. And he remembers how the muscles of Walsh's shoulders were tight and then not and then tight under his hands. And how Walsh shuddered against him and grabbed at his hips. How Walsh pulled Troy up tight against him and pushed their hips together hard and how he got just that much harder when it passed through his mind that it would be almost like this if Walsh was fucking him.

And he remembers the way that Walsh's hands had grasped at his hips, slid down his thighs and then back up to his ass over and over again. He remembers how Walsh's hands never stopped moving on his skin even as his hips got more frantic and desperate. Never stopped moving even as his panting got louder and wetter and faster and harder. Never stopped moving even as he pushed his face against the crook of Troy's throat and moaned his name as he came. It had felt almost as though Walsh was trying to catalog every inch of Troy's body in that one single moment between them and the rest of the world.

And the idea of Walsh wanting to remember him coupled with the feeling of the slick hot wetness of Walsh's come on his dick had him squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth and trying so hard to not come. Because he didn't want it to be over yet. Didn't want to have to go back to glaring and hating and wanting. He didn't want it to end but it was impossible and he couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop himself from pushing his hips up and arching his back and squeezing Walsh's shoulders. Couldn't stop the almost sobbing moan deep in his throat as he came harder than it should have been possible. Couldn't stop it from ending.

And then he remembers that he didn't want to open his eyes. He tried to pretend that it was all a dream because sometimes when he woke up from a dream if he closed his eyes and tried really hard he could fall right back into it. He remembers that right then he didn't want anything else but to be right back in that place where Walsh said his name and kissed his neck. Because that had to be a better place than the one where Walsh was shakily pulling away and sitting up.

And he remembers watching Walsh pull the side of the blanket up and wipe his stomach. And he remembers sliding his fingers through the wetness on his own stomach and wondering if he waited long enough if maybe it would leave some sort of mark. But knowing that it wouldn't because Walsh was getting up and putting his jeans right and pulling his shirt on and just not looking at Troy. And he remembers that very familiar hatred boiling in the pit of his stomach because how dare Walsh think that he could come in here and make him feel like that and then not even look at him after.

He remembers grinding his teeth together and reaching blindly for his clothes and throwing his legs over the opposite side of the bed because he had to get as far away from Walsh as he could before he was overcome with the need to hit him and beg him and kiss him all at once. And he remembers listening to Walsh's feet shuffle against the floor to a rhythm that wasn't even close to the music blaring downstairs and wanting everything to just stop and be quiet. And he remembers that when Walsh cleared his throat that he wanted to laugh because it was typical that Walsh would want to speak when all Troy wanted to do was say nothing.

"Look, Troy..." Walsh started and stopped and Troy hated him because he knew what was coming next and he didn't need to hear Walsh say that it was a mistake because he already knew that it was. And he didn't need Walsh to say he was sorry because he already knew that too.

And as he jerked on his underwear he snapped "Save it, Walsh" when he meant to say 'I don't want to hear you say it doesn't matter'. And when he closed his eyes and straightened his back he said "Just go find your little Goonie girlfriend and get out of my house" when he'd meant to say 'because I already know you're going to'. And he remembers Walsh mumbling something he couldn't understand and slamming the door as he left.

He remembers that he focused on the rushing in his ears and the panic in his stomach and that he wanted nothing more than to rip that door off its hinges and chase after Walsh and tell him... something. Tell him something that would make him stay. But then the music stopped and started again with a new song and he remembers pulling on his jeans and picking up his shirt and walking over to the window and watching.

Watching Walsh and Andy climb into that relic of station wagon. He remembers biting his lip to steady his frantic breathing and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window and watching as they pulled out of the driveway and down the street. He remembers watching until there was nothing left to watch but his own reflection and trying to promise himself that he would never ever think of what happened between them again.

He remembers watching and watching and closing his eyes and pulling his shirt over his head and going back downstairs. And he remembers smiling and drinking and laughing and the whole time, in the back of his mind, telling himself over and over and over that it wasn't worth remembering the way Walsh's skin felt against his own because even if they had been friends once he could never get him back.


End file.
